Sweet Fifteen
by keeponwritin
Summary: Miranda's fifteenth birthday is coming up, and she's torn between two boys as her escort. Will she go with the one she loves, or obey her father's wishes?
1. Glory Days

This is the most glorious day of her entire life, I announced to Lizzie and Gordo, who sat beside me. Lizzie and I were staring longingly at the girls waltzing around the ballroom in their frilly, lace-covered pink and white dresses. Gordo was less than interested, devouring a bowl of tortilla chips on the table in front of him. Come to think of it, I feel kinda bad for inviting Gordo. I guess after he puts up with all our girl-talk on the threeway every day of our lives, I soon begin to forget that he's a guy, too.   
  
The girl I was referring to was Annabella, my mother's coworker's daughter. She, too, was Mexican-American, and today was her _quinceanera_, her Sweet Fifteen.  
  
And I know that whenever I mention it, people think I mean Sweet Sixteen, and then end up thinking I'm some thickheaded nitwit, but I assure you, I'm not. I know what I'm talking about. I've only been dreaming about my own Sweet Fifteen for...oh, I don't know...fifteen years?!  
  
In Mexico, girls celebrated their fifteenth birthday with a mass and a party afterwards. It's actually a lot like a bat mitzvah. I thought this was a clever comparison. I tried it on Gordo but he said it's different. How is it different? After your quinceanera, you're considered a woman. After your bat mitzvah, you're considered a woman. Gordo just wants to prove me wrong.  
  
And when I gazed over at Annabella liked I had been for the past few minutes, it was so hard to believe that only a couple years ago, we were doing cannonballs into the pool together at company picnics. And now...she was a woman.  
  
I wouldn't care so much about keeping up these traditions if they hadn't been forced on me by my abuela from such a young age. Ohhh, one day, you will have your quinceanera, with a fiesta grande afterwards! And I will doll you up into the dress I wore, and you will look muy bonita, niña. And now, finally, the day was almost here. I was 14, going on 15 in only a few more weeks. Twenty-six days, to be exact.  
  
The funniest thing was, I always imagined that in the weeks before my 15th birthday, I would actually start to feel like a woman. But now that it's here, I...I still feel like a little kid. Will I ever grow up? Certain biological events' have occured that should signify that I'm officially label me as a woman...if we were living in the 17th century. Womanly? The thought of finally being a woman makes me want to curl up in the fetal position and die. Sure, the party was nice. Dressing up was cool. Getting presents was awesome. But if I actually took a second to think about it, it's a big step. In my culture, it's practically the climax of your life. Everything before and after means nothing.  
  
Oh no. I'm actually starting to sound like Gordo a couple years ago, when he wanted to go back and celebrate his bar mitzvah. Lizzie's so lucky. She doesn't have to deal with any of this. She's the one that's allowed to grow up gradually over the years. But me? No, I have to become a woman within a 30 minute mass.  
  
Gosh, Miranda, I hope you get one of these, Lizzie cooed, referring to the party we were at. You are so lucky to actually have a culture with real traditions. Gordo gets his bar mitzvah, Miranda gets her quinceanera, and I, Lizzie McGuire, get nothing. And it's all because I'm a European mutt.  
  
Lizzie, having a mixed background is nothing to be ashamed of. It's what makes you interesting, Gordo explained. Besides, you really don't know how lucky you have it.  
  
Yeah, Lizzie, I agreed. You're a heck of a lot less likely to be called a racial slur.  
  
But you guys don't know how lucky you have it. When someone asks me, What's your heritage?', I would love to give a one-word answer, not rattle off half the countries in Europe. Lizzie sighed. I guess the grass really is always greener on the other side.  
  
Trust me, chica, I said, patting Lizzie on the back, one day, your grass will be green. At this, she turned back to me and smiled widely.  
  
Thanks, Miranda. I do not know what I would do without you, she said, holding back a squeal.  
  
Of course, I didn't mention that her grass was already blindingly green, because that's not a very friendly thing to do.   
  
Lizzie was one of the most oblivious people in the world. Seriously, she's up there with Ethan Craft! She just cannot get it through her thick skull how well-liked and popular she truly is. Why did Ethan Craft ask her to hold his murder mystery party (or so she tells me)? Because he likes her. (More than a friend? I don't know. But he does like her.) Why, out of the three of us, does Kate make fun of Lizzie the most? Because Kate feels threatened. And why does Kate feel threatened? Because she's afraid that Ethan make like Lizzie more than Kate. But does Lizzie realize any of this? Nope, she's still wallowing in pity because her life is so miserable. If Lizzie's life is miserable, I don't think there are any words in the English dictionary that describe MY life.  
  
But for some reason, Lizzie's unwordly innocence seems kind of cute. I mean, it's almost like when you look at a kindergartner struggling to read a few words in a picture book, and you just think, Awww! I remember when I was like that!  
  
And then there's the whole Gordo thing. It would be cute if it was the way it was a long while ago...BOTH of them being oblivious. But now it's so vexing when I see Gordo subtly dropping hints, and Lizzie does not pick them up in the least. How blind can a person get? I feel so horrible for Gordo. Though he tries not to show it, I know he's hurting inside. Sometimes, it just makes me want to scream at Lizzie, YOUR BEST FRIEND, DAVID GORDON, IS IN LOVE WITH YOU!  
  
But I don't even know what happened in Rome. I'm thinking it was pretttty big, considering everytime I ask about it, they both blush furiously and refuse to say a word. But taking a look at all the evidence: Lizzie blushing, Lizzie not talking about it, Lizzie no longer having a crush on Ethan Craft. I have known Lizzie TOO long...TOO LONG to be so easily duped. She is boy-crazy. She got kissed by Aaron Carter? Wouldn't stop talking about it for days. She got her first boyfriend? Wouldn't stop talking about it for days. She went out with Frankie Muniz? Wouldn't stop talking about it for weeks. There is no way Lizzie McGuire is crush-less right now. Which leads me to one conclusion..  
  
Lizzie likes Gordo.  
  
And it's obvious Gordo likes Lizzie.  
  
Now if only they'd admit it to each other.  
  
I look around aimlessly. If only we could do something here. It's so boring, eating and watching people dance. I sighed, and continued eating pretzels out of the bowl.  
  
I wondered for a second...if I had my quinceanera, who would be MY escort? It would have to be someone attractive. Someone that would make every other girl in the room completely drop their jaws in jealousy. An absolute, 100% hotty.  
  
This may take a while.  
  
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[A/N: Eh, this is based extremely loosely on this movie we're watching in Spanish class called . Yes, I was actually inspired by something in school. The one good thing Mrs. Niemann has done all year.  
  
And just because there was a lot about L/G in this, don't think that the whole plot is going to be about getting Lizzie and Gordo together. They may not even get together. You just don't know with me.  
  
Lemme know what you think: please review. Thanks!]


	2. A Confrontation And A Hotty

[Disclaimer: I don't own Lizzie McGuire, or the movie Sweet Fifteen, which this is based loosely around.  
  
Personal Notes:  
  
**sully vann**- There may or may not be L/G. And Larry as one of the choices? We'll see. Gosh, I'm obtuse. Heheh, sorry!   
  
**KT the Shimmer Skank-** I actually thought about what you said about not making it predictable, and I completely agree. Most of what I write on here is very predictable (aka very L/G, heh) so I'm going to have fun writing about Miranda's issues and such. And it's such a relief to see you think I have Miranda right, because as I was writing it, I almost decided to give up on the entire thing, because I thought I had her completely OOC. So thank you for the reassurance!  
  
**Hamtaro Cutie-** Don't worry, I'm an L/G freak too. :)  
  
**PinkPrincess-** Ah, you've had a quinceanera? Very cool! If you could, please let me know if I get any of the cultural things completely out of wack, because I would just feel really dumb if I did. And thank you very much!  
  
And of course, thank you to every single reviewer! I don't think I've ever gotten such a big positive response on a first chapter on any of my stories! Thank you so much! Ahhh I'm weird.  
  
Here we go, chapter 2...]  
  
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**Normally, I liked playing dress-up. Even though my style was a lot more punk-ish and tomboy-ish than Lizzie's, I still savored those fancy occasions where I got to deck myself out in pink and purple from head to toe. And I was so sure this would be one of those occasions.  
  
I thought wrong.  
  
Instead, my mom made me wear this atrocious piece of frilly garbage. It was completely white. It looked exactly like this dress I saw on a 5 year old going to church on Easter Sunday last year. Does my mom not realize that I am nearly 15 years old? It was so babyish. And I'm supposed to be finding an escort to my quinceanera...in this?!  
  
And it was girly, yes, but almost...too girly. I'm almost 15 years old. Maybe I should be looking for dresses more...womanly.  
  
But I was coping.  
  
Lizzie was so lucky, in her little flowy purple and white floral dress. Mine was made of such thick material, it was making me sweat like a pig. Actually, at this point, I think I'd rather be Gordo. Khakis, button-down, and a tie.  
  
Guys are so lucky. They're so lucky other guys don't care what they wear. But girls, on the other hand, scrutinize on every minor detail of each others' outfits. Who really cares? Wear clothes because you like them, not because the fashon editors of every teen magazine in America like them.  
  
Finally, another song came to a close, and across the room I saw Annabella beaming with happiness. Her eyes wandered around the room until they settled on me. She only beamed more at the sight of me, and I smiled politely back. I didn't realize she would start running towards me with a couple friends of hers, as if my smile was some sort of invitation.  
  
Miranda! ¿Que tal, chica? she said, still smiling gloriously with those sparkling, perfect white teeth of hers. Her dark brown curls were actually fixed for this occasion. She was one of those girls who was brought up learning both Spanish and English. I knew some Spanish phrases, but none were really hammered into me by my parents.  
  
I said, nervously. Nothing much!  
  
she squealed, obviously not paying much attention to my answers. These are my friends, Elena. She motioned to the short plump girl to her left. And Camile. She motioned to the girl to Elena's left, tall with a pointy nose.  
  
I saw Camille whisper something into Elena's ear, who whispered the same thing into Annabella's ear. Secrets, secrets, are no fun...' I started to recite in my head.  
  
Annabella giggled, cutting off my thoughts, who's your friend?  
  
Oops. I had completely forgotten about Lizzie and Gordo, probably debilitated from the constant tittering from the three girls in front of us. But when I turned to them, they were wearing great, big (fake) smiles.  
  
But wait, my friend? As in singular? As in not plural? As in they just left out either Lizzie or Gordo?  
  
Aww, poor Gordo. I mean, he always get forgotten. We don't mean to, it's just, he's a guy, and well, we're not always sure he...wants...to...  
  
Why is Camille batting her eyelashes at Gordo?  
  
Oh. Oh.  
  
Don't get too excited now, I said unenthusiastically. It's only Gordo.  
  
Annabella yelled. This boy is not fat! She started thinking. Well, maybe he has a little baby fat... She rethought it. But that does not give you the right to insult him like that!  
  
Lizzie cracked up, Gordo furled his eyebrows, and I shook my head in utter pity. Didn't I already explain this to her?  
  
Didn't I already explain this to you? His name is David Gordon. We call him Gordo. It's a nickname. It has nothing to do with the Spanish word. Oh, and just in case you care, this is my friend, Lizzie McGuire. She's my friend, too, though I doubt you care because she's not a guy. We both sneered at each other, and she stomped away in a huff with Elena by her side.  
  
Way to ruin Annabella's quinceanera, Miranda, Camille scoffed, and ran to join up with her posse.  
  
It's funny, I went on to explain to Lizzie and Gordo, you usually think of the annoying, giggly people as the beautiful, popular people. But those three right there are living proof that you can be unattractive and annoying.  
  
Miranda, you are definitely the best friend a girl could ask for, Lizzie avowed. I noticed Gortdo sinking slowly into his seat with his head hanging in disappointment. Argh, Lizzie, stop complimenting me! Or at least compliment Gordo, too! In fact, why not ask Gordo out on a date? Pleaseee, something, I feel horrible for this kid. Which is why I have to ask, she continued, looking over my shoulder at something, who is that hotty?  
  
I did a complete flip-around from my spot to see him. He was the one who would escort me to my quinceanera. He had to do it. Why?  
  
He was seriously the hottest boy I had ever seen.  
  
When it comes to most boys, I'm cool as ice. I'm slick, I'm smooth, and I know what I want...and I go after it. But when it came to hot boys, I felt so intimidated and inferior. I wasn't the confident one anymore; they were. And I just could not control my giddiness.   
  
Obviously, you guys aren't gonna go talk to him, Gordo chimed in. So you know what? I'm going to talk to him. Lizzie and I both looked at him, horrified. Don't worry, I'll put in a good word...for both of you.  
  
As Gordo stood up and sauntered over to the boy, the two of us sat on the edge of our seats. I realized a long time ago that Gordo has difficulty talking to other guys--especially guys more attractive than him. (I guess he's got that inferior complex, too.)  
  
Things seemed to be going okay. After a few minutes had passed, I noticed Gordo walking back...with the boy right behind him! Lizzie and I both worked furiously to fix our hair and make sure we looked our best.  
  
Andres, I'd like you to meet my friend Miranda. Ohh, he was even cuter up close. He had this spiky black hair and deep brown eyes. Andres, what an adorable name... Miranda, this is Andres. And slowly, Gordo backed away to give us some privacy.  
  
I glanced quickly over to Lizzie and Gordo. I hadn't even realized that Gordo hadn't introduced Andres to Lizzie, and she was the one who spotted him. I felt really bad, but what was I supposed to do? Say, hey, you should talk to my friend first'?   
  
he said, huskily.   
  
I said, back, nervously biting my lower lip. The awkward silence was torturous.  
  
Would you like to dance? he asked. And I nodded affirmatively.  
  
We went on onto the dance floor and tried to waltz. We kept stepping on each other's feet, but continued on anyway.  
  
If you don't mind me asking, he said, smirking a bit, how old are you?  
  
I'm turning 15 in a few weeks, I said, nodding, trying to avoid saying 14' for fear he would reject me because of my age.  
  
So you're 14?  
  
I sighed.  
  
You caught me. We chuckled a little, before returning to ultra-serious, feet-conscious mood.  
  
I am 17. I nearly choked on that one. Seventeen? Oh no, my parents didn't even like me dating guys my own age! But seventeen?! I can't let this continue or it might get too serious. He might actually start to lik... Miranda, you're very pretty. I just know I turned several shades of red at that second. I know this may seem sort of sudden, but I would very much like to see you again. Do you think I could?  
  
I wanted so badly to say yes. But he was right--it was so sudden. I just saw this guy for the first time, and he was so much older and my parents would never let me even go near the guy and...  
  
I'm sure we could work something out. Wishful thinking. I could not reject that sweet face, though. I decided to change the subject. So, um, how do you know Annabella?  
  
I'm her friend's cousin. Do you know Camille?  
  
My head sunk from my shoulders.  
  
Just my luck.  
  
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[A/N: This is gonna be a sorta short story, seeing as how I'm already getting into the main plot in the 2nd chapter (something I don't do very often).   
  
Hey, I wrote this all in one day! That is such a miracle for me, and junk.  
  
Lemme know what you think: please review. Thanks!]


	3. All The Best Deceptions

[Disclaimer: I don't own Lizzie McGuire, or Sweet Fifteen, which this fic is based loosely around.  
  
This chapter is rather filler-ish. I'm just warning you now. But I still think it's necessary, so if you don't like it, cry or something.  
  
Gosh, I'm rude.  
  
Onto the story.]  
  
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Silently, Lizzie, Gordo and I packed into my mom's minivan, in that order. Quickly, I slammed the door shut, and we were on our way back to my house.  
  
After a tedious awkward silence, my mom turned back to us briefly at a stop light and asked:  
  
How was it?  
  
How was it? How was it?! It was the most boring, irritating and magical experience of my life! Wait...rewind. That made no sense. How can something so magical be so irritating? How could I have had such a horrible and wonderful time, all at the same time?   
  
And they wonder why people go insane. Life--that's what does it to them.  
  
Lizzie and Gordo both plastered on those (fake) smiles they do all too well, and responded in unison, My mother nodded in satisfaction.  
  
When a couple seconds flew by and I still hadn't responded, my mom got this suspicious look on her face.  
  
she said, her voice already taken on that heated, what-happened-this-time?' tone, did you have a nice time?  
  
What do I say, what do I say? Not that I didn't lie to my mom every other day of my life, but I knew I'd eventually have to tell my parents about Andres.  
  
Or do I...  
  
I had a great time, I proclaimed, almost too enthusiastically. I met a couple of Annabella's friends, and they were really... I swallowed and nodded, trying to convey my point. I said with the straightest look on my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lizzie biting her lower lip to keep from laughing, and Gordo was shaking his head slightly. He was either disappointed in me for deceiving my mother, or trying to hide his laughs, too. I suspected the latter.  
  
That's nice, dear, my mom responded automatically.  
  
I might as well have said we got attacked by orange polar bears while rabid leprochauns played their ukeleles, because even then, the response would still be: That's nice, dear.  
  
Since awkward silence again followed, my mom instinctively turned on the radio to a pop station. She was always like that...trying to keep up with the times. And really, that would be cool...if it were any other person. But it was my mom. She was painfully dorky. Come on, she still wears overalls! Who wears them?  
  
If you're wondering why the three of us weren't talking, it's our PAS: Parent Alert System. It was like this radar, and when a parent entered hearing-distance, we ceased our talking. Okay, not all the time. But right about now, what Lizzie and I desperately wanted to talk about was Andres, and I had a feeling Gordo wanted to yell at me for ruining his chances with Annabella. After all, he did have this slight crush on her after I showed him this picture of her one time. One would think he'd stop liking her after 7 years, but you never know with Gordo. After all, he's liked Lizzie for...how long now?  
  
I'm just teasing. Gordo still liking Annabella is kinda creepy. Gordo still liking Lizzie is adorable.  
  
And I know I should totally set them up, play matchmaker, get them together and stuff, but I know if I did, one of them would flip out at me. Plus, you just can't rush these things. And I'm so sure that the person who would do the flipping out would be Gordo, and even though as recently as 7th grade, he was just the other friend' to me, we've gotten a little closer in the past couple years.   
  
Ew, not like Lizzie-and-Gordo close. Platonic closeness.  
  
Though I'd never admit to anyone else, I was a little jealous of Lizzie. NOT because of Gordo, that is. (Repeat after me, people: pla...ton...ic.). But just because someone likes her. And it may not be Ethan Craft, her supposed dream boy', but at least it's someone, right?   
  
No...scratch that. I wouldn't like someone totally gross liking me, because what good would come of that? She's so lucky to have such a totally nice, trustworthy guy always with her...now, if only she'd realize just how lucky she is...  
  
So maybe I can't manipulate the future, and make them be together, but I can always, you know, give fate a little nudge in the right direction.  
  
The sad thing is, I probably think about Lizzie and Gordo more than Gordo thinks about Lizzie. I need to start focusing on my own life.  
  
A little grin passed my face as I remembered. Andres. I would kill just to run my hands through those silky black spikes. Why didn't I think of him earlier? He's someone who's not totally gross who likes me.  
  
Whoa, Miranda, don't get ahead of yourself there.  
  
But he called you beautiful.  
  
What am I doing? I am going schizo, or something. All over a boy.  
  
I take back what I said earlier. Life is not what makes people go insane. Love is.  
  
I peered down at my left palm as discreetly as possible. I knew my mom constantly checked her rearview mirror to see what I was doing, so if she saw anything suspcious, she'd jump to conclusions. Conclusions that were probably right, but she wasn't supposed to know that.  
  
His number was written on my palm. And I know, usually the girl gives the guy her number, right? But that would mean he would have to call me. Oh yeah, and I'm sure my dad wouldn't flip out at some 17 year old guy calling for me.  
  
So I asked for his number, and he wrote it on my palm. When he did, his hand lightly brushed against mine, which sent me into this trembling state where everything I did thereafter was shaky and seemingly ditzy. It was like I was turning into Lizzie! Every time his dark eyes looked into mine, and I went weak in the knees, I just kept thinking, I'm supposed to be the confident one!'   
  
It just so happened that the second I realized I had been admiring the way he wrote his sevens, Gordo peered down and joined me in my admiration.  
  
Miranda, you got his-- he started saying, which sent me into panic mode. Impulsively, I threw my hand over his mouth as both Lizzie and my mother stared on.  
  
Uhh, yeah, Gordo! I said nervously, desperately searching for a cover-up. I do have his... Gulp. Think, Sanchez, think! ..tory next trimester! Thanks for asking!  
  
My mom kind of rolled her eyes at us, weirded out. Lizzie was still squinting in confusion. Gordo just sat there.  
  
Kenf I freethe wow?  
  
I asked. Removing my hand from over his mouth, he repeated himself.  
  
I said, Can I breathe now?'. Which is pointless to say now. So thank you, Miranda.  
  
Any thing for my little Gordyboy!  
  
Lizzie shook her head, her eyes still squinting.  
  
I don't get you two, she deadpanned.  
  
And I don't get you two,' I wanted to respond, but I held my tongue.  
  
We're home! my mom announced, pulling into the driveway.  
  
Tonight was the night Lizzie and Gordo would both be sleeping over. And I should've been excited about that.  
  
But all I could really think about was Andres.  
  
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[A/N: I don't know about you people, but for some reason, everytime I imagine Andres, he looks just like Mike Erwin. Sorry if that just disrupted your own visions of Andres, but I just had to get that out there.  
  
So I finally updated! It's been like a month! I didn't sleep all night! Go me! Go caffeine! Go Draco Malfoy because I love him!!!!!  
  
And now, I haven't read the books. So don't ask.  
  
Lemme know what you think: please review. Thanks!]  



	4. It's 3 AM, I Must Be Lonely

[Disclaimer: I don't own Lizzie McGuire. Have I not made this clear? I also don't own Sweet Fifteen, which this is loosely based on. (And if you're wondering, it's kind of an annoying movie. I don't really recommend it, yo. Well, maybe I could've enjoyed it if I wasn't FORCED to watch it for like, 10 different Spanish periods in a row. Oy freakin' vey! Sorry, not a fan of family-togetherness-type morals.)  
  
Onto the story.]  
  
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Contrary to popular belief, it does get cold in California. It's not exactly North Pole, freezing your bum off, constant snowiness, but compared to the 100º weather we have for the rest of the year, it's pretty chilly. Especially considering we're in the middle of January.  
  
I put on my furry cheetah-print pajama bottoms and a plain white wife beater. Words just can't describe how lucky I am to have two best friends who I can just be myself around. That's the one downfall of being popular: you have to hide behind this unrealistic mask of happiness and blend in with your surroundings, like a chameleon. I just know I could never subject myself to that torture. Other than that, though, I think I'd do most anything to be in Kate Sanders' shoes for a day. Sometimes, it's every teenage girl for herself, you know?  
  
Lizzie's muffled voice says from outside my bedroom door, followed by a few knocks. The previews are almost over. You almost ready? It disgusts me sometimes what a great friend Lizzie is to me. Often, I feel like I'm not holding up my end of the deal.   
  
Checking my hair in the mirror once again (as if my friends would care), I hopped over towards the door and opened it quickly.  
  
Ready as I'll ever be, I replied, beaming. I gave Lizzie's outfit the once-over, a standard for being fashionable friends. Cute, as always. It also totally disgusts me how Lizzie can pull off wearing pink anything. She could wear devil horns, but as long as they were pink, it'd be adorable. Together, we raced down the steps to find Gordo with an impatient and disappointed look on his face. (The impatience for me, the disappointment for Lizzie. That's how it always worked.)   
  
The movie already started, Gordo stated plainly, before shovelling a handful of popcorn in his mouth. Tonight was different for us. We watched movies together often, but usually could only agree on some cheesy mystery/crime-type flick. But tonight, we'd agreed on . Gordo because he used to like the comic book, and he says the special effects look cool. Lizzie and I because we think Tobey Maguire is pretty hot. In an adorable dorky kind of way.  
  
I ran over and flopped on an empty spot on the white couch to Gordo's right. And I made sure to sprawl out nice and far, leaving Lizzie with a small space to squeeze next to Gordo. I watched them both fidget around, trying to make sure the other didn't think they were getting close to them on purpose. I felt a little bad, like I was controlling them, and they were just my puppets. But I can't help it if they have such undeniable feelings towards each other, and they just won't admit it.  
  
Thinking about Lizzie and Gordo, I got a little distracted, even when Uncle Ben was lying there on the sidewalk, dying. I've even been warned by my own mom about the Third Wheel Syndrome', but I never thought I'd go through that, because I was so happy for them. If you're truly happy for two people being together, then you shouldn't be so selfish as to want them to yourself, right? Besides, it never occured to me that one day, they would admit their feelings and become a couple before my own eyes. Then what? They run off, get married, have children and never come to visit poor old Miranda, with her 28 cats in her 1-bedroom apartment. And why? Because they have each other. They don't need me anymore to tell them what to do. I'm completely useless to them.  
  
Oh my gosh, what am I thinking? They wouldn't do that to me. They're my best friends forever...right? Right.  
  
Soon, a small part of the movie caused the greatest amount of discomfort so far that evening. It was the kiss between Spiderman and Mary Jane. You know how when there's a kiss onscreen and the camera is focused right on it, you don't want to stare at the screen, because then people will think you're getting into the movie too much or you're imagining kissing someone else? It was painfully obvious my friends were doing that for the whole kiss. Busying themselves by asking for popcorn or trying to get away to go to the bathroom.  
  
Wait, guys, I whispered harshly, crossing my left arm across both of them as a restraint. You've got to watch this.  
  
Miranda, come on, Lizzie responded, giggling nervously. It's just a kiss.  
  
Just a kiss! I exclaimed, exaggerating my real thoughts just a tad. That is like the most romantic kiss in the history of film! They're outside, in the rain, he just saved her life and she doesn't even know who he is. I sighed dramatically for effect. I wonder what it's like to kiss someone upside-down. And with that, there was dead silence for a few seconds, before the movie went on. Neither of them spoke. I didn't really expect them to. I saw them in my peripheral, and they looked pretty shaken up.  
  
But I didn't really have a great master plan. I mean...maybe I was secretly hoping one of them would get really nervous about the kiss and I could turn it around on them and accuse them of things. What can I say? My life has been so lacking in romance, I just need something. Even if it's my friends, just something!  
  
That night, after a very tedious movie marathon, we finally all fell asleep. But I use that term loosely. More like, Lizzie and Gordo were dead asleep and I was lying there, still with a ton of things on my mind. Like how I was in tenth grade, almost halfway through high school. How had this happened? Wasn't it just yesterday Lizzie and I were giggling over being in junior high? Being old enough to go to the Digital Bean? I didn't understand why everything had to be so set in stone these days. Lizzie and Gordo, destined to be friends forever. Kate, destined to be a total wench forever. Me, destined to be loveless forever. Hello, this was high school. Weren't things supposed to change all...rapidly?  
  
Just as I was thinking this, my phone started ringing. But not my home phone. My cell phone. It was so early in the morning--it must've been like, 2 AM or something--and the two people who consistently called me on that phone were sleeping nearby. I crawled over, quickly picking it up so my friends didn't wake up. Groggily, I clicked the green button and held it up to my ear.  
  
  
  
No way. I recognized the voice immediately. But this phone number? At this time? Was he completely nuts?  
  
Um, Andres! I said, suddenly perking myself up a bit. It was a little hard. Did I mention it was like, 2 AM? I said quieter.  
  
Sorry to call you so late, he apologized. But I just made plans for a date for the two of us. Is that okay?  
  
Um. Okay. Normal boys didn't call at 2 AM just to confirm date plans. In fact, quite honestly, most boys didn't call at all. That just made him more lovable, though.  
  
Y-Yeah, totally cool. Way cool. Oh, smooth, Sanchez.   
  
Even with your father?  
  
What do you want me to say? No, but who cares?' Actually, that didn't sound so bad...  
  
Yeah, it's all totally fine, I lied. I hadn't even told my mom. I hadn't even told my diary yet. How did this kid even get my phone number? Why had this boy become so obsessed with me in like, all of an hour?   
  
I'll be calling you later. How was it possible that I was melting without even seeing his smile, but just knowing it was there? See you.  
  
See you, I said breathlessly.  
  
So maybe he was enamored.   
  
But I can't say I wasn't flattered.  
  
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[A/N: Please review and let me know what you be thinking. Thanks.]


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